


don't sit under the apple tree

by lazulisong



Series: sam deserves better than these assholes [11]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, the amount of shit peggy takes is zero
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-16
Updated: 2015-01-16
Packaged: 2018-03-07 19:07:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3179822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazulisong/pseuds/lazulisong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>bucky and peggy's first meeting in seventy odd years goes approximately as well as you might expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't sit under the apple tree

**Author's Note:**

  * For [verity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/verity/gifts).



> oh, I'll write you a short stupid for your birthday, I said. you know, like five hundred words! what do you want?
> 
> ha. ha. ha ha ha. ha. ha.

Sam understood how much it meant for Steve to ask him and Bucky to go with him when he went to visit Agent Carter. He really did, and he was prepared to sit through Steve's driving for as long as he could before wrestling the steering wheel away from him and telling him that Bucky looked kind of tense. 

Bucky, of course, was by mutual agreement never the driver unless they had to stage a getaway. Bucky was amazing at getaway driving, for fairly obvious reasons. 

But it was still a hella long four hours, and Sam wasn't looking forward to the return trip when Steve would be quiet and stricken and Bucky would alternate from being just as stricken, and shoving Steve into the corner of the car and the most defensible spot of wherever they stopped to eat. 

It would probably be easier on everybody's nerves if they could just fly down, but Bucky's arm and metal detectors were not a great idea, and no offense to anybody, but Steve wasn't hella good at planes and even Sam prefered to not be in the sky when he didn't personally know the pilot. And Steve had scruples about accepting help from Stark, or even Ms Potts, when he still spent most of his time looking wistfully at Stark's head like he'd really like him better if he could just smack him like a mother cat teaching a kitten manners. Just once. 

So the Jersey Turnpike it was, and Sam didn't say anything, but he planned the trip so Bucky would have plenty of time to check for bombs after they stopped, and packed a picnic basket about half his weight. He also swallowed his pride and called Riley's family and asked if they would mind him borrowing the little apartment in the back of their house that Riley had used between deployments.

"Of course not, Sam," said Riley's mother. "You know you're welcome, any time."

Sam swallowed hard over the lump in his throat and managed, "I appreciate it, but I've got my friend Steve and JB and they're kind of --"

"In the service?" she guessed.

"Yeah," said Sam.

"They're still welcome," she said. "Would you like to have dinner with us? Give those boys some good home cooking."

"Well," said Sam, in an agony of awkwardness. Like, Riley's mom was the third best cook he knew, after his momma and his nana, but the thought of showing up for dinner with Captain America and a dead-eyed vet scoping out everything and glaring at their poodle like it was a time bomb was --- "Actually, um. My friend is named Steve Rogers."

There was a long, long silence.

"I see," she said finally.

"And my other friend, JB, he spent a lot of time over there. He got captured, and --"

"Hmm," she said.

There was another silence. 

"Well," she said, "I guess I'll buy an extra roast."

Sometimes Sam missed Riley so much.

* * *

So after Sam carefully explained that Riley's mom had invited them for dinner, and Bucky had spent an hour pacing restlessly and staring at Sam and the picture of Riley on the mantel, they decided to leave early the first day, spend a full day driving if they had to, have dinner that night (before Steve saw Peggy and Bucky saw Steve seeing Peggy and everybody became a hot fucking mess, Sam did not add), go see Peggy the next day, spend the rest of the day recovering, and then drive home the third day.

* * *

The trip down went as well as Sam had privately suspected, and by that he meant Bucky had to spend half an hour examining the car every time they stopped for gas or Steve's super-serum gerbil bladder; Stark called and whined for half an hour without apparent pause for air about the way they were driving instead of taking a Stark Industries jet; and Steve looked more and more miserable and tense with every passing mile. 

Also, fucking Jersey.

When they pulled into the DC suburb where Riley's family lived, everybody was done with everybody else. It was raining, of course, and when Steve swung his backpack over his shoulder he looked nothing like a symbol of manhood and America, and very much like a tired, heartsore vet with his world broken to pieces. Bucky looked at him sideways and then carefully bumped into his shoulder, telegraphing his movement. Steve smiled a little, but he still looked inexpressively weary. 

Sam picked up his own bag and walked up to the porch, with Steve and Bucky behind him. The door swung open and Mrs Riley held Jazz back from bounding out. "Hi, Sam," she said. She looked over at Steve and Bucky. "Come in, just let me get Jazz under control." She looked down at him and said, "Find a toy!" and released him. Jazz skittered off in an agony of enthusiasm and a rattle of claws against the hardwood floor. 

"Thank you for inviting us, ma'am," said Steve, with his Captain America smile. He held out his hand and Mrs Riley shook it. 

"Oh, no, any friend of Sam's," she said easily. She looked at Bucky and didn't offer to shake his hand. Riley's dad had been in Viet Nam. "It's so nice to meet both of you boys. Sam, why don't you take them down to the apartment and get them settled before Jazz goes crazy. I hope you all like pie."

"Pie?" said Bucky, hopefully. It was the first thing he'd said since Steve had snapped at him for checking the gas cap five times. 

"Pie," said Sam. 

"So much pie," said Mrs Riley. "I made a pecan pie for you, Sam, and there's an apple pie and a lemon curd tart --"

The three of them probably broke a speed record getting to the apartment, throwing their stuff down, and getting back.

* * *

Sam insisted that they sleep in a bit the next morning. Steve never slept more than three or four hours at a time, of course, and Bucky would probably always be That Guy Getting Up To Check The Locks and Windows Every Two Hours, but if they lay in bed after they woke up they both were slightly less tightly wound. Sam had taken the hideabed, not out of any unselfishness, but because if Steve and Bucky shared the bed they would sleep better which meant that Sam would get a good night's sleep too. 

Still, Steve was up and prowling by seven am, and Bucky was up shortly thereafter. Sam tried to sleep until eight, but he wasn't immune to the nervousness pouring off Steve in waves. It got worse as they went for a run, took turns in the shower, and ate breakfast. It was affecting Bucky too, which in turn made Steve more wound up, which made Bucky more wound up, which made Sam develop a pounding headache by eleven am. It was almost a relief to drive to Peggy's home. 

The hospice was a pretty white building set a little back from the road; it had a wide porch plants growing over the black iron fence. It had a secured section in back for wandering dementia patients, and it smelled like lemon detergent and flowers. Steve had brought flowers for Peggy, and he carried the great sheaf of red roses like it was his shield. Bucky trailed after him, looking pale and serious; he carried the vase for the roses carefully, like it might shatter if he so much as flinched. Sam, bringing up the rear, couldn't help but think what an absurd procession they made. The nurses and caregivers didn't pay much attention to them, at least: they were used to it. Sam could hear the dim sound of someone calling Bingo in what must be the main common area, and one of the caregivers smiled politely at them. "Here for Miss Peggy?" she said.

"Yes'm," said Steve, dredging up a smile.

"She's having a real good day today," she said. "She'll be glad to see you, I bet."

"I hope so," said Steve.

When they reached her room, Sam and Bucky hung back a little, almost instinctively. Steve rapped gently at the half open door. "Peggy?" he said. He spoke gently, like he did when Bucky was having a bad day.

"Steve," said Peggy Carter. Sam couldn't see much over Steve's broad shoulder, but from the way Steve's shoulders relaxed he thought that Peggy was pretty alert. 

"Hey, beautiful," said Steve. "I brought some people to see you."

"Darling, how sweet, but one handsome man is enough for me," said Peggy. Steve stepped into the room, and Sam came in. "Well, the more the merrier, I suppose."

"Peggy, this is my friend Sam. He was in the Air Force and now he's in the VA as a counsellor and helps with the Avengers," said Steve.

"Ma'am," said Sam, and held out his hand. Peggy took it and held it for a minute. Her hand was cold and dry. Her skin was soft, and Sam felt big and awkward beside her. She smiled up at him for a second.

"It's a pleasure," she said, then addressed the door. "Well? Are you going to just lurk there, Barnes, or are you going to join us like a civilized gentleman for once?"

Sam stared at her.

"I hated it when you did that," said Bucky, coming in reluctantly. He came up to the bed and they looked at each other for what was perhaps thirty seconds but felt like a small eternity. Finally Bucky set the vase down and reached out to tuck a lock of white hair behind Peggy's skull. "Hi, Carter. Thought you'd got rid of me, I see."

"Oh, I never thought that," said Peggy. "Well? What's your story? Those wretched girls are always trying to hide the newspapers from me, but I heard about the fiasco." Her lips tightened. 

"Aww, Carter, you can't help idiots," said Bucky. He sounded more like a real person than Sam had ever heard him.

"Speaking of idiots," said Peggy sharply. 

"Oh no," said Bucky, glaring at her. "You _promised_."

"You promised too," said Peggy, glaring back.

Steve blinked. It was clear this was the least attention Peggy or Bucky had paid to him since before he'd swan-dived into the Arctic.

"Don't ask them, man," said Sam. "Don't do it, you'll regret it ---"

"Promised what?" said Steve, proving again that he had approximately the sense of self preservation of a suicidal lemming.

Peggy and Bucky glared at him until he cowered back, and then returned to glaring at each other. Then, both at once, "I _told_ you to take care of him."

"Oh Christ Jesus," said Steve prayerfully.

"Oh jeez," said Sam.


End file.
